


To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die

by NeasieB



Category: Bill (2015)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, I feel so much for this minor character, Plague, quite sad, remembrance; bereavement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:40:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28631883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeasieB/pseuds/NeasieB
Summary: “Two strapping lads. Like my sons would have been. The plague”.His wife has already lost their two sons. Now she's going to lose her husband as well.
Kudos: 2





	To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die

He realises the minute he sees the head ripped off the stupid straw donkey and the knives thrown onto the floor. His poor wife, who has already been through so much following the death of their two sons, will now have to endure living as a widow too. Kat doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve any of it. She's been so brave and steadfast through the years, coping with everything life threw at her, and now he's going to add another burden for her to bear, and bear alone this time too. If only he had kept his stupid mouth shut when he realised the visitor was King Philip the Second of Spain. Honestly, would it have made any difference? And now they're going to kill him to ensure his silence. He doesn't fear the pain, but fears what will become of Kat without him. His employers might grant her a small pension, perhaps, but it won't be enough to keep up the rent on their little cottage. Perhaps she'll be able to find work as a servant at the manor house. Or perhaps she'll marry one of those village men he's seen look on her with admiration. She's still a handsome woman after all. 

He hopes Kat knows how much he still loves her, even after all these years. He thinks of their lost boys. How proud of them he and Kat were. He thinks of them as babies, so fair and sturdy; as growing children, beautiful and curious; as youths on the cusp of adulthood, handsome and hearty; as corpses, their potential lost and wasted. It's for them he always make his stupid half-joke when someone lifts a heavy trunk onto his customs bench - “Two strapping lads. Like my sons would have been”. It's his way of ensuring that they never really die, not while they're still fresh in memory. Sometimes he can't restrain himself from adding the quiet coda “The plague”. As if anyone cares about that when plague is so common and there is hardly a house in England that doesn't have at least one missing face at the table because of it. But still he says it. Is he about to see his sons again? That would almost be worth dying a stupid senseless death at his customs post for. If it wasn't for leaving one fewer person in this world to remember them. And for leaving Kat alone. 

***

Kat straightens up from the graveside, grunting slightly at the twinge in her back. She brushes her hand against the simple wooden marker. “God be with you sweeting” she murmurs, as she always does. Some of the villagers say she shouldn't keep putting flowers on his grave, suggesting it's almost _Catholic_. But still she carries on. God made the flowers she gathers from the hedgerow. Surely He won't mind if she offers some of their beauty to her husband? She knows she is lucky to have this place to visit Tom. Normally a neat little grave such as this with a marker would be too costly for such as her, but the government paid for Tom to be buried here, in the corner of the churchyard, close to the yew trees that protect it from evil spirits. “Some small compensation since he died so bravely in the course of his duties” said the official who came to visit her after Tom's death. “Robbery” was the official explanation – they said Tom was killed trying to stop thieves at his customs post. “Political” was the rumour in the village. It was said that Sir Francis Walsingham had been seen at the site the day after Tom's death. She assumes the grave and the tiny pension they granted her are to keep her from asking difficult questions. Lord knows, she's grateful for them. The pension is small, but enough to let her stay in her cottage and not have to rely on alms from the parish. 

Her boys have no grave as they were thrown into a plague pit with the rest, so she comes here to talk to them too. She knows it makes no difference. Tom and her boys are together in the arms of God now, it doesn't matter where their mortal remains are. She knows Tom thought of the boys every day and often wonders if he did in his last moments as well. He was so brave over the years, carrying on with his job, always with a smile and a cheery greeting for the people who passed through the customs post, although she knew he was heartbroken. She hopes he knew how much she loved and admired him for that. She wonders if he thought that last job was a routine customs inspection until it suddenly wasn't. Wonders if he made that stupid half-joke he always made when someone lifted a heavy trunk onto the customs bench to be checked - “Two strapping lads. Like my sons would have been”.

**Author's Note:**

> Those few quiet words from the customs official in the scene when the Spanish arrive in England break my heart every time.


End file.
